


Thrill Them With Amazing Acts

by sabinelagrande



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Cultural Differences, Farce, Gratuitous References to The Producers (Musical), M/M, Not s05e20 Enemy at the Gate Compliant, Past Jennifer Keller/Rodney McKay - Freeform, Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26073043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Or, How To Break a Trade Agreement Without Really Trying.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 7
Kudos: 116





	Thrill Them With Amazing Acts

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I am posting SGA fic in the year of our Lord 2020. See the end notes for more... notes. This story ignores the events of the series finale, because why wouldn't you.

"First order of business," Woolsey said, adjusting his water glass ever so slightly, "relations with the Mrandians."

"Oh god, not this again," Rodney said, pressing his fingers to his forehead. "Can't we just shoot them? What happened to when we used to do that?"

Teyla bounced Torren on her lap as she spoke. "What Rodney means is that we are all very tired of the Mrandians' demands, many of which go well beyond those of our other trading partners."

"McKay said it better," Ronon offered.

"Look, we have to get out of this treaty," Rodney said. "They're bleeding us dry."

John shrugged. "We've got a contact scheduled for next week. I'll just tell them to fu-" he shot a look at Torren, "-that we can't meet their demands any longer."

Woolsey shook his head. "I can't let you do that." He sat straighter, clearing his throat. "They are extremely influential in the Alliance. We can't afford to make any enemies right now." He paused. "Intentionally."

John licked his lips and leaned forward. "Nobody could blame us if they broke the agreement, though, right? I mean, there's a lot of cultural differences between us and them that we probably don't even know about."

"You guys are dumbasses," Ronon agreed.

"You're not helping," Rodney snapped.

"I think he is," John said.

"It would really be regrettable if they decided we were unfit because of our culture," Woolsey agreed. "And I can't know anything about any attempt that might hypothetically be made to make them think so, obviously."

"That much is clear," Teyla said, inclining her head. "If we were to make such an attempt, which we will not, you would of course never be informed."

"On an unrelated note, we have a meeting to get to," Rodney said, pointing towards the doors.

"Yeah, uh, we have to plan-" John started, and he made a motion with his hand.

"An orgy," Rodney said. He stopped, looking deeply puzzled at himself.

"Takes a lot of coordination," Ronon said, not missing a beat. "We better go."

"Why don't I just go?" Woolsey said, and he quickly vacated the premises.

"I will genuinely never know why that is the first thing I thought of," Rodney said.

"Hang on to it," Ronon said. "It might come to that. We need to be ready."

"Perhaps we should start smaller," Teyla said.

" _Much_ smaller," John said. "I have a couple thoughts about Plan A." He looked at Teyla. "Let's take a walk."

"You're not going to share with the class?" Rodney said.

"I think this one is better off the cuff," John said.

_people tell you modesty's a virtue_

John and Teyla cornered him as he was gearing up for the next mission to Mrandia.

"I would like to congratulate you, Rodney," Teyla said, smiling broadly at him. "I did not believe it possible when I met you, but you have made great strides in your offworld behavior."

"You haven't pissed anybody off in months," John chimed in.

"I think you are on the right path to becoming a truly diplomatic negotiator," she told him.

"I- uh," Rodney stammered, slightly dumbfounded. "Thank you. I'm- I'm honored." He didn't miss the look that John and Teyla exchanged. "What?"

"We want you to cut it out," John said.

"Not on every mission," Teyla clarified. "Just when we are visiting the Mrandians."

"You can feel free to treat them like you do your scientists," John suggested.

"And you think I can lose a trading partner just by being myself?" He considered it. "It's worth a shot." He sighed, pulling his bag out of his locker. "I'm sorry, I just don't know if I'm feeling up to it."

John and Teyla looked at each other again. "Hey," John said, putting his arm around Rodney's shoulders. "You can do it. All you have to do is be yourself."

Rodney politely, but firmly, dislodged John's arm. "You'll have to forgive me if I haven't been myself lately."

With a last look at John, Teyla took her leave. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"You know good and well what's wrong," Rodney huffed.

John tried not to let his exasperation show on his face. Ever since Rodney and Keller's spectacular break-up and Keller's subsequent return to Earth, Rodney had been moping around Atlantis looking wounded. John had been as supportive as possible- for a guy with a huge, ridiculous, multi-year crush- for the first few months, but it was going on eight now; and as far as John was concerned, the statute of limitations had long since passed.

"Here's an idea," John said, trying not to make it sound sarcastic. "What if you tried a little bit?"

"Excuse me?" Rodney said, raising an eyebrow.

"Y'know," John said. "Fake it 'til you make it." He leaned in closer, speaking confidentially. "Wouldn't it feel good to let go? Even if you're not feeling it, you could stand to let off some steam. Doesn't have to mean anything to get a little relief. Might do you good."

Rodney pursed his lips, the way he did when John was right and he didn't want to admit it. "Fine," he said. "Maybe I do deserve some release."

John adamantly did not say what he thought about Rodney getting release. "That's the spirit. Now come on. They're waiting for us."

\--

Mrandia looked a whole lot like a lot of other Pegasus worlds. The nearest settlement to the gate was a quaint village, cobbled streets lined with one- and two-story houses and shops, picturesque villagers going about their daily tasks in peace. At the center of town, there was a large square, ringed by administrative buildings.

John was already starting to hate the sight of it.

"Everyone who doesn't have a PhD, get out of my goddamned way," Rodney loudly announced as they stepped into the town square, stepping around John and Teyla.

"You seem to have given him significant motivation," Teyla told John.

"Let's hope it's enough," he replied, "and get ready to run on my signal."

"Is there somebody here with enough brains in their head to tell me where the hell Oliran is?" Rodney said loudly, to the crowd in general; but Oliran, head magistrate and their chief contact, was already making his way out of the town hall, ringed by his ever-present retinue. He was a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman, a nice enough man before you got to know him for the snake-oil salesman he actually was.

"The Ancestors have smiled upon us this day!" he said joyfully, coming down to greet them.

"That makes one of us," Rodney complained. "Look, I'm tired, they're tired, I have a billion more important things I need to be doing right now, so can we just cut to the chase? I want to get off this backwater rock as fast as possible."

Oliran looked taken aback for a moment, but he recovered. "Yes, of course!" he said, suspiciously cheerfully. "Come, we have so much to discuss."

John looked at Teyla and Ronon and shrugged hopefully. They looked skeptically back at him, but the three of them followed along.

It honestly was kind of surreal and kind of comforting to watch Rodney at complete asshole levels. Years of life on Atlantis had toned him down, knocked some of it off him- in a good way. This was like watching Rodney from that first year, when they were all terrified and accidentally finding ways to take it out on each other. Rodney wasn't that person anymore and John wouldn't have liked it if he were, but something was nice about seeing him let go.

Unfortunately, it did not change the fact that Rodney was the worst negotiator of all four of them; this was taking into account the fact Ronon started most of his attempts by setting his gun on the table.

"Doctor McKay is such a joy!" Oliran said while they took a break, clapping his hands together. "His wit is so refreshing!"

John stared at him in utter bafflement.

Ronon leaned over to John. "Is he trying to be funny?" he asked.

"If he is, it isn't working," John replied.

"I think it is time for Plan B," Teyla told them.

"Do we have a Plan B?" Ronon asked.

"We better get one," John sighed.

Rodney kept yelling. Amazingly, it didn't help.

_keep it light, keep it bright_

It was another obnoxiously pretty day in Mrandia, birds chirping, fruit trees dropping blossoms everywhere, beautiful sunset lighting up the sky.

It kind of made John want to hurl.

Dinner had already been prepared and consumed; Oliran had already talked them out of far more labor and medications than they were willing to give up. Teyla and Ronon had already been escorted off to their rooms, which were, of course, impeccably appointed and incapable of being complained about.

Not that John wasn't about to try.

"Whatever I say," John said through clenched teeth, "just go with it."

"I hope you know-" was all Rodney could get out before their hosts returned.

"Ah, Doctor McKay, Colonel Sheppard," Oliran said brightly. "Are you ready to retire for the evening?"

"Not so fast," John said. "We have some problems with our sleeping arrangements."

"Oh no," Oliran replied, looking shocked. "What can we do to serve you? We wouldn't want anything to be amiss."

John took a deep breath. "You see, Rodney and I, well, we, uh." This had been a lot easier when he'd made his plan. He took a deep breath, resolving to man up. "We've been lovers for some time now."

Rodney wisely slapped a hand over his own mouth.

John ignored him. "So, we'd kinda like to sleep together. Since we're sleeping together and all."

"We're not married, either," Rodney offered, catching on. "But that's not going to stop us. Wild sex on every surface. That's us, all right."

"Excuse me," Oliran said, turning away from them and having a hurried consultation with his staff; while they weren't looking, John gave Rodney a thumbs up.

"Please forgive us," Oliran told them. "If we had known of your condition-"

" _Condition_?" Rodney said incredulously.

"-we would have taken steps to accommodate you earlier," he finished. "Please, let us show you to your new room."

They were hustled off to yet another lavishly appointed apartment, complete with a cozy little bed and a cheery breakfast nook, Rodney looking murderously at John all the while. Oliran gave them the traditional, overly cheerful goodnight blessing.

The door shut behind them.

Rodney rounded on John. "Who says 'lovers' anymore, anyway?"

"This is what you're upset about?"

Rodney stripped out of his tac vest and threw it heavily onto the bed. "I was going to work my way up on the scale of things I'm upset about right now." He snorted. "You know, this is the closest I've come to getting laid since Jennifer left me."

John raised his eyebrows. "Actually-"

"No, no, I don't want to hear your sympathy," Rodney said, waving him off, stripping out of his jacket and shirt. His pants were next; John made a point of not ogling him, at least not until he'd taken his sleep pants out of his pack and put them on. "I still cannot believe you did that," he said, climbing into bed.

"I thought it was going to work," John protested, stripping off and getting in beside him.

"Well, it certainly didn't," he huffed. "Maybe you don't mind all of Mrandia thinking you're gay, but I do."

"Rodney, you're bi. What do you care?"

"It's the principle of the thing! What if gorgeous Mrandian women want to sleep with me? You may have women throwing themselves at you at every turn, but some of us have to take what we can get."

John was momentarily disarmed; it was the first time since his breakup that Rodney had even mentioned being interested- even hypothetically- in someone else. "What about the gorgeous Mrandian men?" he asked.

"Yeah, well, they all think I have a hot boyfriend who carries a large gun."

John grinned. "You think I'm hot?"

Rodney rolled over and grumpily pretended to snore.

John sighed, putting his hands behind his head. Time for Plan- what were they up to?

_those aging nymphomaniacs_

"I am unsure as to how your plan was supposed to work," Teyla told them, as they sat through another interminable Mrandian feast.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I thought it was a fairly simple proposition."

"Not every planet shares the prejudices of Earth, Rodney," she pointed out. "If you are going to offend them, you should do it with a little more sensitivity."

"That's where I come in," Ronon said, gulping down the rest of his wine and setting the cup down with a resounding thunk. "Plan D."

"I thought this was only C," John protested, but Ronon was already gone.

They watched as he walked to the high table; he went right past Oliran, extending a hand to the tiny little gray-haired woman sitting next to him. She looked taken aback as Ronon smiled at her, giving her his biggest and most frightening grin.

"Oliran's grandmother," Teyla supplied.

"How does his grandfather feel about this?" Rodney asked.

"I did not ask," she replied. "I have a feeling we will soon find out."

\--

Ronon's expression was dour as they walked back to the gate.

"I was told it would be a great offense," Teyla said again. "The rules concerning the trial of honor were not mentioned."

"I can't believe you beat up a ninety-year-old man," Rodney marveled. "Why didn't you just throw the fight?"

Ronon whirled around; he looked like he would've punched Rodney in the face if John hadn't suddenly caught him. "Think about who you're asking," John said quickly.

Rodney threw up his hands. "If this mission gets any more cultural-"

"Save it, McKay," John said, letting Ronon go.

"It was never my intention to allow you to become betrothed," Teyla said, still lost in her own apologetic spiral.

"There's one bright spot in all of this," John pointed out. "Imagine what they'll do when he breaks up with her."

_intermission_

"You know, I think you're the only person I can talk to," Rodney said.

"Huh," John said, not sure how to respond to that.

They were sitting on what had become their favorite pier, the one that had a good view and was very difficult to access once Rodney liberated a few important crystals. It was entirely possible Rodney's sudden honesty was related to the fact that he was three beers in, already lying on his back and looking up at the stars.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rodney said, confused.

"Most people wouldn't say that about me," John said.

"Why?" Rodney said, and John could tell he was going to chase this particular rabbit. He wasn't trying to be cruel, probably; it was just that he couldn't leave things alone, when someone was telling him there was something he didn't know.

John picked at the label of his beer; unfortunately, he wasn't paying attention and the whole thing came off, having been in a cooler. "The phrase is 'like trying to talk to a brick wall,'" John said, flicking his wrist to send the soggy label onto the decking.

Rodney tried to roll onto his side and failed, his knees still over the edge of the pier. He sat up instead, looking at John. "What would be wrong with that?"

John furrowed his brow. "Well, it's not very flattering."

Rodney waved his hand dismissively. "The thing about talking to a brick wall is that it lets you talk," he said. "It lets you bounce off of it without judgment. It absorbs what you have to say. You're _not_ like a brick wall, you talk back way too much, but your brick-like qualities are a thing I admire, not something that's wrong with you."

"Huh," John said.

"Plus you care about me," Rodney said.

"We all do," John said automatically, because that was both true and safe.

"That's just the hill we chose to die on, I suppose," Rodney mused. "Caring about each other."

"More or less," John said, and he took a swallow of his beer in preference to saying anything else.

"Hmm," Rodney said, giving him a look, then he lay back down and looked back up at the stars.

It was kind of amazing to John how he could be jumping up and down trying to get Rodney to notice him and not want to get noticed at the same time. It also, somehow, wasn't surprising.

_everything is show biz_

They held their strategy meeting in the boardroom, while Woolsey sat in his office listening to Rachmaninoff very loudly and pretending like he didn't notice them.

"The Genii are on board?" John asked, because Plan D was going to take some doing.

"Mister Woolsey has instructed me to say that while his meeting with the Genii did not include discussion of any unsuitable plan or strategy, he may- or may not- have had indications that the Genii will give us assistance," Teyla said, bureaucratically. "As it turns out, Ladon Radim has an appreciation for," she paused, "cigars."

"If by cigars, you mean bald guys," Ronon said.

Teyla gave him a look. "He believes that refusing to trade with us because of the perceived danger will cause the Mrandians to lose the respect of the Alliance, leading to increased opportunities for his people."

Ronon snorted. "Yeah, and you spar with the Marines because you're concerned for their health."

Rodney looked up from the paper. "Ladon _Elizabeth_ Radim?"

John shrugged. "From that trust ceremony they did. I'm sure there's some stuff signed Elizabeth Ladon Weir in the file."

"Huh," he replied, looking back down again. "It'll be convenient for him to change his last name to Woolsey, then."

"I talked to Todd," John said, leaning back from the table and chewing on the end of his pen. "He's in."

Teyla's eyebrows shot up. "And he has agreed not to feed upon or otherwise harm the Mrandians?"

"You forgot, this is Todd we're talking about," John pointed out. "He thinks it's too funny to pass up. Who's next on the list?"

"The Travelers," Ronon said.

John smirked. "Larrin agreed to a meeting?"

"She had a number of conditions," Teyla told him, "but yes, she did agree to see you."

"What kind of conditions?" John asked, suddenly suspicious.

Rodney reached under the table and held up a thick coil of rope.

He blinked. "You've got to be shitting me."

"She was very specific," Teyla told him.

"Maybe too specific," Rodney added, shifting uncomfortably.

"Christ," John said, running a hand through his hair. "All right, fine."

"You're also going to have to take your shirt off," Rodney said. "And try to look, what did she say? Oh yeah. Fuckable. Work on looking fuckable." He looked at John, considering. "You know, maybe you should lose the pants too."

"Rodney."

"What? I'm just saying. You're hot, she's hot, maybe you should," he waved his hand in a circle, "be hot together, if it helps get her on board. You know, as a last resort."

John narrowed his eyes. "I'll keep it in mind. You know, maybe we can do it without the Travelers."

"Are you kidding?" Rodney said. "They're the best part!"

John had to smile a little at Rodney's enthusiasm. "Suppose I'll do it. But I'm keeping my pants, thanks."

"Spoilsport," Rodney retorted.

"Are we all sure this is the wisest course of action?" Teyla asked.

"We left wise behind a long time ago," Ronon said.

\--

"Ahh, we are so happy to see you," Oliran said, as they approached for what seemed like their billionth visit. "It has been too long."

"It's been three days!" Rodney protested.

"That is too long to go without seeing such important trading partners," he oozed. "If you will come-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a group of armed Genii soldiers marched into the town square. "Doctor Rodney McKay!" the lead Genii shouted. "You are charged with indecent acts, insulting our leader, and the destruction of a solar system."

"Oh, come on," Rodney complained. "That was like four years ago."

John raised his gun, training it on the Genii soldier. "Let's all just calm down," he said, snidely. "We wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

Before the Genii could respond, a scream went up from the crowd; John glanced up to see a Wraith dart come screaming in above them. The beam activated, dropping a lone Wraith into the middle of the town square.

"Sheppard!" Todd shouted.

A woman in the crowd threw off her robe, exposing her tight leather outfit and her massive pistol. "Stay away from him!" Larrin called. "This one's mine!"

"Come and take him, foolish human," he retorted, ignoring the Genii guards as they frogmarched Rodney away.

She launched herself towards Sheppard, tumbling on the ground and coming up with both guns trained on Todd, who hissed. Sheppard did his best to cower, putting his arms over his face. Larrin and Todd fought around him, kicking and swiping at each other. Just as it looked like Larrin was getting the upper hand, the dart swept all of them up- Larrin, Todd, and Sheppard- and headed back for the hive.

Teyla and Ronon were left standing in front of the elders; Ronon's face twitched with the effort of not breaking into guffaws.

"We apologize for having troubled you," Teyla said placidly. "It was not our intention to bring such horrors down upon your world. We will depart immediately."

"No, please stay and regale us with stories!" Oliran gushed. "Your lives must be so fascinating!"

Teyla and Ronon looked at each other.

"But we must have made things so dangerous for your people," Teyla tried again. "Though the Wraith no longer present a threat-"

"We are accustomed to danger," Oliran said, waving a hand at her. "We are not accustomed to such excitement!" He clapped his hands. "Now, let us go inside and discuss the matter of your payment to us for the bramia harvest."

"There is an Earth phrase I have heard uttered on occasions like these," Teyla told Ronon, pausing before the door.

"Yeah?"

"'You have got to be shitting me'."

"Good phrase," Ronon agreed, following her in.

_I know it's gonna fail_

"I'm giving up," Rodney announced as they headed to yet another meeting with the Mrandians. "There's no way we're getting out of this. We might as well accept it."

"Relax, Rodney," John said, cheerful smile plastered on his face, waving at the gathered villagers. "I'm sure we can work something out with these fine people."

"Colonel Sheppard! We are always so glad to see you here," Oliran told them, in his typically unbearable way. "How may we be of- Great gods!" he shouted, jumping back from them.

"Oh no," Rodney deadpanned. "We must have done something wrong. How embarrassing."

Oliran pointed at John, quaking with rage. "You go about with your feet uncovered?!"

John looked down at his sandals, which were the entirety of Plan E. "All the time. Sometimes we even go," he paused for effect, "barefoot."

Oliran collapsed back against one of his retinue. "You must leave our world immediately, before you contaminate it further."

"What about our trade agreements?" Teyla asked.

"Obviously we can no longer trade with people such as yourselves," Oliran huffed. "Now please, leave!"

The team took a dignified stroll back to the gate, ignoring how people ran and hid as they passed. Rodney dialed the gate with élan; they somehow restrained themselves until they were on the other side.

"That was somewhat anticlimactic," Teyla said, ignoring how Rodney and Ronon were whooping and jumping up and down.

"Good enough for government work," John told her.

_'til him_

Rodney showed up to John's room after dinner, which wasn't any rare occurrence. John had thought he might, for no other reason than the mission had been a lot and he probably wanted to talk about it. 

"Can I come in?" Rodney asked.

"It's not like I'm gonna make you stand out in the hallway," John said, standing back to let Rodney through the door.

"So, the mission today."

John rocked back on his heels, pleased with himself. "Went pretty well, didn't it?"

"Believe me, I've got no complaints," Rodney told him. "But it's a little strange, don't you think?"

"What is?"

"I didn't know you even owned sandals, much less wore them offworld," Rodney said suspiciously.

John shrugged. "I was hot."

"It's almost winter on Mrandia."

"It's almost summer here."

Rodney gave him his best cut-the-bullshit glare. "How long have you known?"

"I didn't _know_ ," he protested. "I just had a hunch."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "How long have you hunched?"

"Ever since they took us to their temple, remember?" John said. "All the statues had shoes on. You know how once you notice something, you see it everywhere? Even the little babies had shoes on."

"And you let us go through all of that?!"

"It was a last-ditch effort, Rodney, not a good plan."

Rodney rubbed his temples. "God, my life is so ridiculous when you're around."

John shrugged. "Is that really such a bad thing?"

"It could be worse," Rodney said. He turned away. "Anyway, I-"

He stopped cold. "Something wrong?" John asked.

Rodney wheeled around. "This is- this has all been for me, hasn't it?"

John swallowed. "How do you figure that?"

"The way you've been acting-" He held up a hand. "Yes, yes, I know we needed to get out of the trade agreements, that's not the point- the point is, you would've come up with something a little less ridiculous otherwise. More than that, you've been acting all-" He waved his arm. "Nurturing and encouraging."

"I can be encouraging," John said defensively.

Rodney frowned. "Were you trying to cheer me up?"

"Maybe a little," John said, feeling exposed.

"Interesting," Rodney said.

John waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "That's all you've got?"

"For now, yeah."

"I really was doing it for work," John protested. "It's just that- well, if you can have fun too, that's a bonus, right?"

"So telling them we were a couple-"

"In my defense, I genuinely thought that one was going to work."

Rodney raised an eyebrow. "So you didn't only want to spend the night with me?"

John shrugged. "Not only."

"I'm impressed," Rodney said. "Your ulterior motives have ulterior motives."

"Look, Rodney," John said, sighing. "You just deserve better." Rodney opened his mouth, so John pressed on. "Not better than Jennifer, that's not the point. You deserve better than torturing yourself and being unhappy just because you think you should be."

"And you never torture yourself?" Rodney said.

"I torture myself all the time," John said wryly. "That's how I know it sucks."

John realized he'd walked closer and didn't remember doing it. It didn't seem to matter; by this point, he'd been noticed. But then, none of this would have happened if he hadn't really wanted to be.

"You know, if you wanted to cheer me up, there's a much simpler way you could have done it," Rodney said, looking him up and down.

"What's that?" John said innocently.

Rodney made a face. "It creeps me out when you try to be coy."

John put his hand over his heart. "Then I promise I'll never do it again."

"Fine with me," Rodney said, stepping closer.

"If you don't mind, I'm gonna-" John said, leaning in.

"By all means," Rodney replied, just before John kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this story in 2010 for McShep Match, when I was on Team Work. I ended up going with a different story instead and regretted it a little, because I only wrote it to be Serious so I would be taken seriously. Bad reason to be Serious, even if people really aren't taking you seriously, especially when humor is your style. Now I am way less concerned about anyone thinking I am remotely serious, so I got a good nostalgia buzz on and finished it up.
> 
> I only remembered what was supposed to happen in this story because it went as far as being alpha read by [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin); it wasn't finished, so I'd left notes to her in the text as to what wasn't there. After I didn't finish it for Team Work, I just left it. It lacked about 1k from being done, which I have filled in here. I feel like it's fairly cohesive, but there's a huge difference between my dialogue styles then and now, with regards to tags. If that feels a little inconsistent, that's why.
> 
> And I had forgotten just quite how many references to The Producers were in here, but I listened to the OBC a _lot_ in grad school, and here we are.


End file.
